Fiore, the elegantly long-limbed androgyne arrives, following Caprice.

Nyx arrives, following Camilla.

Caprice gets a delicate set of prayer beads cast in silver with charms of Lagoma and Gild from TAKE THIS STUFF SOME OF IT TAKE IT.

While for social gatherings, Rook tends to be fashionably late, for important affairs of state and faith, he is almost on time. Which for Rook, usually means five minutes early. He arrives for the ceremony and joins the lingering crowd preparing for the start.

Without a doubt the High Sun Celebration started off with a significant amount of prayer to both Lagoma and Gild and there will probably be /more/ prayer later on. But at the moment we're walking in on the tail end of a sermon by the Archlector of Gild who is leaning both immense hands against the pulpit as he speaks to the crowd. "...and that is how I ended up sleeping outside of the cathedral in Stormward!" It was probably a really funny story, lets go with that. "But today we're here to celebrate and welcome the beginning of summer which is well underway it feels," he laughs and pats at his neck with a cloth. "And also sanctuary and hospitality. The Faith of the Pantheon offers that to all of the Faithful that need succor. And we offer that now, to any who need a place to sleep for the evening. The doors to our great cathedral are open! There are pillows and very thin blankets because who needs heavy comforts on a day like today? We'll also be collecting any charity that you might be willing to give, to go toward those commoners of Bastion that find themselves in unfortunate circumstances." With those echoed across the grand space, he waves his arm to a line of tables where dinner is being served. "I'll be heading behind the line tonight to serve dinner. Any who are willing are welcome to join me."

Nodding slowly in time with the rise and fall of the sermon, Rook listens attentively. At the call to action, he turns from his post and heads over towards the dinner line, carefully navigating his way towards the area behind the line where the Archlector has gone. He slowly rolls up his sleeves, preparing to join with the others willing to serve.

Mathis has joined the Quiet Alcove.

Ezra has joined the Quiet Alcove.

Somewhere nearby Porter, and mouthing the words of his story along with him - she's heard this before - Azova attempts to give the children something to smother giggles about until he's done. And then, of course, she steps up to raise her voice and offer a few words of her own. "The changes of late are the most difficult to embrace; the loss of loved ones, homes, livelihoods. Indeed, such change is difficult simply to accept, and that is understandable. The Mercies of Lagoma are here not just to tend to the physical injuries of those who raise weapons to defend, but to the spiritual hurts as well. For tonight, let us help by serving." With a warm smile given to all, she turns to follow the Archlector to help serve dinner. And, on the way there she hooks her arm with Reve to happily drag him along too.

Ezra slips in unobtrusively, as he is often wont to do, and then hovers around awkwardly in search of familiar faces. This too, of course, is very like him, the general impression that he might have come feral out of the woods and is still processing that there are more than three people in the world and sometimes they're all together in the same place.

Allowing her gaze to casually drift from person to person, weighing those moving about with the clergy and to serve with them along with those who are here for a meal, and then those that are here for little purpose other than to be seen. She falls in the latter category, and remains off to the side, venturing to neither side of the dinner table.

The Archlector of Petrichor is here for the celebration, and it even looks like he shaved. He still hasn't had a haircut, but you can't win them all, and at least an effort was made. He's even wearing a new pair of pants! The concept of sanctuary is, of course, one which is familiar and deeply important to Mathis, and he applauds for the end of the sermon with a big, bright smile. Of course he's definitely going to help serve dinner, too; he's gracious enough not to drag Ezra along for that, although he does make a gesture of some kind in Ezra's direction. Like, a wave/beckon/thumbs up kind of thing.

Camilla does, that is, lingering off to the side. Displaced nouns and all.

Bhandn did not fall asleep during the sermon. Honest. He spent the time fidgeting with his two swords on one of the pews, trying to keep focused on Porter's amazing story. There is some amusement on the old knight's face when the story comes to a conclusion, though. When the talk comes to a conclusion and dinner is on the menu, Bhandn will most certainly be willing to join the Archlector with serving dinner, after putting his peacebound weapons back where they belong. He doesn't offer any commentary, but the smirk remains on his lips the entire time, and he lets Porter see it. LOTS OF SMIRKING. He wanders over by Porter to offer the Archlector a brief murmur of words, and then will pitch in to help serve dinner. There'll be time for eating later. In theory.

Reve, for his part, is being amazingly well behaved. Maybe that is due to the fact that it is his _wife_ that is doing such things as mouthing words. He observes her through a half-lidded gaze, content and amused all in one. Eventually his eyes slide sidelong toward the giggling children and he just has to look all the more amused. Until, of course, the moment of mirth has to pass and serious matters are at hand. Such as Azova's speech. His expression remains so solemn, it does, until it becomes clear that he is getting drug along to help serve. Immediately the young man looks as though he might have sucked on a most sour lemon. He smooths it away however, asking Porter, "Might there be something to carry?"

Oswyn has sat quietly and bookishly throughout the whole affair, squinting at those speaking when they speak. Once it's over, he's apparently going to help serve dinner as well. The Archscholar is at least easy to pick out in a jaunty yellow waistcoat. He's already got his sleeves pushed up - it's hot, it's summer - and takes up a ladle to wield in the battle to deliver food to the needy.

Porter is behind the serving line, rolling up his sleeves when Bhandn comes over and offers him a few quiet words. He tips his head to the side, like a dog hearing something interesting. Then he begins to laugh gregariously, like Bhandn has just said something that's given him a very good idea. "I'm going to work that into every sermon from now on Bhandn, thank you for that." Oh no. He turns and waves a serving spoon at his fellow members of the Faith. "Archlector Mathis, good to see you. And Archscholar Oswyn! Did you ever find clothes from that classifieds you had posted?" Important questions. Someone turns up in front of him with a plate and he gladly gives them a scoop and a few softly spoken words.

Ezra should have been here for the sermon buuuut he wasn't. Surely some support for hospitality and Bastion is still indicated by turning up! Reluctant to dive right into the food line until others have been served, he smiles at Mathis in a way that seems fond, offering him a wave that seems like a casual salute, as he finds a place to sit, out of the way.

Perhaps Cassiopeia is late or perhaps she was just passing by and got curious, or maybe she's just on island time. Either way, the young woman slips into the Cathedral with a warm expression on her face and a cheerful smile that lights up her eyes. While he steps are quiet, sandals making no sounds, the jingle of jewelry oft gives her away. Taking easy steps, she looks around the room, taking in the atmosphere and observing those gathered as though looking for a familiar face in the crowd. The young woman doesn't say much, rather she is trying to catch up with what is happening here at the Cathedral. Her attention drifts to the building itself, as though she is somewhat unfamiliar though not entirely, with her surroundings.

Quietly and unobtrusively, Rook finds a place in the line, serving up food and a smile to each person that comes his way. He inclines his head to each, offering a small sentiment about charity and Gild to each as they pass by, doing his own little part even not as a member of the clergy to help spread the faith.

Mathis gives Porter a genial nod, examining the food they're serving with an eye that is just short of critical as he dishes it out with a warm word and a smile for everyone he serves. "You been out on the sea since the weather changed, Archlector Porter?" he asks casually, in between serving. "And congratulations on your appointment, Archscholar Oswyn. Good to have you."

Oswyn points with his free hand toward himself. "Yellow waistcoat," he tells Porter. It's very well-made but there's no silk to be seen anywhere near it. "That's about it. It has a sunburst design if you look very carefully? For High Sun. I thought it was clever. Thank you again for the bakery box, by the way." He leans over to squint at Mathis and inclines his head in greeting. "Thank you, Archlector. I'm still settling in." Then the person approaching him in the line is given a quick smile.

Reve continues his escort of Azova to where they begin serving. He's tugged along and evidently pointed toward some matter of use. While initially his expression may have been a contrary thing, when he actually engages in the work itself he is amiable enough and he does take the matter seriously. One he spies the others offering kind words to those they serve, he himself does similar. See? He can fit in!

Deciding that being a wallflower does not exactly become here, even at a gathering such as this, Camilla pushes off the wall she had adopted and makes her way among the crowd, slowly. She is not heading towards the dinner table, merely across it, carefully navigating her way among the waves of people coming in for the free meal.

"Not as much as I might like. I keep my personal ship in the docks and there hasn't been much point to keeping a full crew on... so then I need to find a crew..." Porter makes a bit of a waving gesture with his free hand. His life of responsibility sees him rooted in Arx more often than he might prefer, clearly. "Anyway, I don't mind sailing in colder months. Stormward isn't known for it's calm and peaceful waters," he chatters to Mathis. Another plate comes along and he takes care of that one as well. Oswyn's answer has him holding his finger up in a 'one moment' gesture to someone. Then he steps closer and peers at this waistcoat. "Oh, but this is quite grand! I do like the sunburst pattern. A very good choice for today, nicely done! Perhaps more nicely done to the tailor. Where was this garment made?" he asks, even as he's leeeeeaning back to where he's supposed to be. "Lord Reve! Did I say you wanted to lift something? I have potatoes!" ...Where?

"I'm not responsible for you making the congregation groan in resignation," Bhandn tells Porter in a complete deadpan. "They might donate strictly to the Knights to keep you locked up rather than giving their alms to the Faith like you ask." That he says in a perfectly innocent tone, his expression changing to mirror his words. "And that's not even counting what the others will say when you lead off with that tale yet another time." All this is happening while Bhandn helps serve food, looming there with his swords on display and trying not to intimidate the line at the same time. Smirking more at Porter helps with that.

"Tangled Skein," Oswyn tells Porter, pausing to hold his arms up to better display the garment. "I was also informed my pants were no good so these were also made." They are suitable pants for the weather, so that's good. Casting a glance toward Bhandn, he notes, "I liked the story. It was interesting."

Merek walks along and into the cathedral while he takes the time to look around, his longcoat adjusted about him while he finds a place to settle in for the time being.

"Well, I'm no sailor, but if you ever want to get out of the city, you let me know," Mathis answers. "Forest's just a hop, skip, and a jump away. I'm out there all the time when the weather's good enough. Neglecting my duties or keeping up with them, depending on how you look at it." He nods. "Already seen a calf with two heads this kidding season. At least it wasn't -" he cuts himself off, and smiles broadly at Oswyn. "We're all still settling in," he acknowledges. "I'm beginning to think we never stop settling in."

He raises a hand and beckons the wayward Riven over, calling, "Did you bring your spider satchel?" which causes several people to look around in great discomfort.

Azova tried her best to hide an amused smile at Reve's contrary lemon-pucker expression, but he still gets a side glance that threatens to turn into a giggle at his expense. Until he asks for something to carry, and she clears her throat before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek with approval. "Are we discussing clergy fashion?" she wonders, of conversation about Tangled Skein. It's all a bit disjointed really, as she tries to impart a kind word to any of those she winds up serving.

Rook continues to quietly serve up food to each of the petitioners, making very small exchanges of words with each as they go. This is not exactly his place, nor his typical role - but he did not want to pass up an opportunity to help glorify Gild. While the members of the clergy and their immediate circle engage in conversation, he quietly performs his duties with a smile on his face.

"Yes! Yes, I do." Reve quite swiftly puts a dollop of food to the next person, remarks, "Very good to them," before neatly sidestepping away so that he can go vanquish the fearsome foe of potatoes. "Where?" he asks Porter as he goes trekking off to place potatoes from here to there. His only delay is getting a cheek-kiss from his wife, see.

Ezra cannot be lured over closer to Mathis by potatoes, but it turns out he can be lured over by discussion of a spider satchel, and he is. Up from where he was sitting, wandering closer to the Archlector of Petrichor -- nods to those here in a friendly way, and a more familiar smile to Oswyn. "No," he answers Mathis with what sounds like regret. "They're at home with a singer to keep them happy. They don't like it if they go too long without attention while they're awake, and I thought that might not work for the sermon, but then I saw a lot of people and didn't go to the sermon, so um.. anyway. Potatoes look good."

Cassiopeia isn't quite sure what is unfolding and she watches people serve potatoes to others with a curious expression. The young woman isn't sure who is in charge either, but she walks up to where the line of people serving are and she murmurs in a soft voice, so not to intrude. "Is there any way I can help?," she wonders, softness in her tone and warmth in her eyes.

Mathis spoons a dollop of potatoes to Ezra. "That's too bad," he mutters. "Wait until you see my new dog. Lady down in the Lowers had a basket full of pups. I named /him/ Potato. Nonsense keeps trying to pick him up and carry him off somewhere to hide him." He beckons Cassiopeia closer. "I think we've got enough hands on the line, but how about some dinner, miss fancy lady?"

Rook offers a warm smile to Cassiopeia, spotting a fellow "outsider" to the usual crew here. He waves his free hand over towards her as he hands a plate to a supplicant. "Absolutely," he calls to her. "Just come over here, grab some plates and food, and hand it across the table."

"Good point," Oswyn says in Mathis' direction. He's smiled at, and he squints hard at Ezra but smiles back at him. "Spiders?" he repeats. "Uh. Right. That's a... shame." He quickly ladles some more soup to the next person in line. Look, he's not head of the Harlequins. He doesn't have to like spiders! "I was told I needed to not look so much like a shopkeeper," he says in Azova's vague direction by way of explanation.

"It's a perfectly lovely story and full of very important life lessons." What those life lessons are, we may never know, since the story will never ever appear on camera. It's wholly possible Porter is giving very TERRIBLE advice, but hopefully Aureth wouldn't have promoted him if he was up to tricks like that! Porter seems happy to just talk right around Bhandn's suggestions people are going to LOCK HIM UP. "They'd have to catch me first. I'm faster than I look." A nod of approval for the place Oswyn's clothes were tailored and he leans over to get a good look at his pants. "I do like those pants, very fashionable. I could use some pants." Mathis' talk of getting out into the city is met with a bright smile and then a dimmer and then, "Will you expect me to ride a horse on this trip? Because the last time I did that, I smacked my face right into a tree branch and then the horse left. Another time the horse spent the whole trip trying to make friends with another horse. I was powerless." Porter is really more of a people person than a horse person, to be fair. He stoops down and finds a bag of potatoes that has for some reason been stored under the serving line and hands them to Reve, "They can go over there. Someone gave them to me as a donation." Cassiopeia's plight is noted by the tall Archlector and he starts waving the complete stranger over when he hears her question, "HELLO," too loud. Or not loud enough? Probably too loud. His smile turns crooked as Mathis and Rook offer conflicting instructions. He reaches over the table to her and offers his hand, "Archlector Porter Kennex."

Rook looks over at Mathis and shrugs slightly, spreading his hands in apology for the confusion that seems to have driven out the poor Princess.

"Don't you like spiders?" Ezra wonders of Oswyn, while he dubiously eyes the potatoes Mathis dolloped in his direction. This dubiousness might be more about the dog named Potato. "We have two dogs and five spiders," he points out. "We're adding a dog named Potato to this?" DOUBT.

Mingling among the people, neither serving meals nor partaking, Camilla seems to be serving her own purpose at the gathering. Or perhaps none at all, other than a mild diversion. She picks her way carefully among the crowd, somehow managing in her casual drifting to avoid actually coming into contact with any of the unwashed masses.

The tallest of the Malespero family, Macario, makes his entrance and is stopped by the sign suggesting he take this stuff. He peers in, gently picks up the prayer beads in his hand, lifting them up all the way the full length. He swipes them up and around until the form around his fist, and he shoves them into his pocket seemingly pleased with himself.

As long as it's not about edible medicines, Azova won't say a word about the life lessons that Gild's Archlector is imparting. She does also lean back to afix Mathis and Rook with a 'look' after they scare someone away. 'Really?' she mouths, eyebrows raised, as more mashed potatoes are plunked onto a plate and handed across the assembly line to the recipient. "Is there enough to drink? Perhaps I should pour some drinks." she mulls, starting down the spiraling rabbit hole of 'is everything getting done let me check everything'.

When Cassiopeia asked what she could do, three options were flung her way - Rook invited her to help served, Mathis suggested she take a plate and eat, and Porter attempted to introduce himself.

Mathis eyebrow waggles at Porter. "Trying to make friends or 'make friends'? They'll do that. It's faster riding, but we could always hike it, if you're up for a long distance trek. Eh, Ezra?" Oh, Ezra, you've been volunteered. Sorry bout'cha. "Ezra, you have to try those, tell me if they're as good as mine." To anyone listening, he says, "The secret is a lot of butter, and just a bit of fresh cream." Absolutely ignoring the comment about how many dogs and spiders they have. It's fine, he grew up on a farm, he could probably manage about two dozen animals, although how they'd fit in his very narrow townhouse is extremely questionable.

Porter's answer about being spry only serves to amuse Sir Bhandn further. He doesn't push the issue any further, but rather shakes his head and focuses on serving the line. The aging knight goes quiet, because he doesn't intend to linger for too long. He came for the dinner, truth be told, but he clearly doesn't mind helping out before he helps himself.

"Spiders are absolute fascinating and wonderful creatures," Oswyn tells Ezra. "I just don't like them, um, near me. Or on me, especially on me." Camilla comes a bit closer to him at some point, and he offers a squinty but amiable smile her way.

"We have two dogs, five spiders, and an eagle," Ezra reminds Mathis, having forgot one of the creatures incompatible with little puppies named Potato that Mathis got from... somewhere. His tone suggests that evasion of the question is not forgotten here, even if he may not press it just now! Someone in line mistakes the plate he's holding for an offer, and he surrenders the potatoes without question. "Not as good as yours," he promises anyway, and then raises a brow at the mention of a trek. That at least he doesn't seem to mind. "Sure. But might as well go into rough or steep country if you can't take horses anyway. Right?" Oswyn, he blinks at as though he can't fathom this. "Why not?"

The very tall woman approaches the tall Archlector, offering the man a warm smile. Noting the extended hand, the woman shakes it seeming amused by the conflicting instructions. It doesn't bother her, she seems to see it as options and she decides to chose helping over being helped. There is a keenness in her eyes, that desire to assist those around her, a natural affliction. To Porter though, she introduces herself, "a pleasure to meet you Archlector Porter Kennex," she says with a cheerful tone, though her voice is heavily accented. "My name is Cassiopeia Proscipi of Tremorus," she says by way of an introduction. "I would love to offer my help, however I can, please feel free to task me," she says seeming willing to do whatever is needed and happy to do so.

"I don't know. They just..." Oswyn pauses in his ladling, considering his answer to Ezra. "Aren't my favourite? It is perfectly normal to not have every animal be your favourite. I am happy to have spiders in my study so long as they keep to webs in the corners."

It might not be any great feat, bringing that bag of potatoes from here to there, but it is serviceable enough for Reve. He swings them in place and nods in satisfaction. After a moment of delay, he evaluates and then nudges them a little bit this way and that. Task sufficiently done he goes back to the serving line.

"I think it was the latter," Porter tells Mathis gravely and with wide brown eyes. The /scandal/ of horses trying to go on dates with each other. "I'm very good at walking, and I never get lost or accidentally punched by trees, when I'm on foot," he tells the Archlector of Petrichor, like this is a truly fantastic selling point on not riding horses. "Drinks!" He suddenly announces, when Azova speaks on it. He kneels down and begins hauling crates of glass bottles out from under the table. The underneath of the table is basically a bag of holding, all sorts of stuff down there. "Drinks!" He says to the Mercy. When he stands, he's still trying to shake Cassiopeia's hand, which happens! He's got a firm grip and gives her hand a solid, companionable shake before releasing her. "Would you like to help Lady Azova and Lord Reve with these drinks?" he asks her, pointing out all of the bottles. So many! And varied! "A pleasure to see you here. Are you-- a Marquessa? Marquessa Proscipi? Do I have that right?"

"We have /three/ dogs," Mathis corrects. "Five spiders, and an eagle." He gives Ezra the most disapproving look as Ezra passes his plate of potatoes away. "I'm not making you something at home. You have to eat here. These are tonight's plans. And you better not eat all my bread tomorrow morning because you didn't have enough to eat for dinner." Ah, the words of someone who grew up with a dedicated mother and too many siblings. He leans past the others in the line to offer to Porter, "Next time you do this, I'll come and help with the cooking. I put in plenty of time cooking for Godsworn up near Blancbier. I even know which mushrooms are /not/ the ones that make you see weird stuff and puke all night. Most of the time."

It's actually quite difficult to spot Porter, considering all the tall people around him, but Macario /does/ manage to spot him. He gives the Archlector a wave from afar, and he navigates through the crowd toward him, the prayer beads now out of his pocket and swinging by his side as he walks. It's a bit of a walk, certainly, but Macario makes it there in decent time. Macario makes it in time to catch part of Porter's story. Somehow, craftily, he manages to squeeze through and give Porter a giant wallop on the shoulder. "Archlector Porter! I thought I'd surprise you." Then, in a low murmur he jokingly adds, "See, I told you. So many. And they're all tall." The murmurs comes and goes, as Macario does his best to clear the way for the hosts.

"So that's where they are? How is everything fitting in that one spot? /Weird/." Azova decides, giving a shrug and hauling some bottles out of crates to begin setting out for opening and pouring. "You pour, I pass?" she suggests to the Marquessa politely. "And Reve can dispose of the crates and bottles." So that he doesn't have to people.

"True enough. A lot of people seem to disproportionately dislike spiders," Ezra observes to Oswyn, though he seems mollified by the way the Archscholar will let them hang around as long as the spiders stay in their lane. Regarding the food, he mildly observes, "One of the guests thought I was offering, Mathis, I'm not going to fight a man over a plate, now am I? I'd be in the news tomorrow and I can think of no worse fate." Side eye. "Why in stars did you name it Potato?" Cassiopeia's accent is observed with interest, if not recognition. "Where are you from, again?"

Nobody saw Bhandn accidentally punch Porter in the arm just now. "Trees are everywhere," he says to the air, and that's about where Bhandn finishes with his particular shift of helping with the line. Why? Because he moves to join the line! He wants food now too, and Porter just called for drinks. That's another reason to need food, to have something to wash down! So Bhandn gets a plate, and with completely wide eyes, just holds it out with all the innocence he can muster into his gaze. Please Porter, can he have some more?

Joy, the advisor of roses arrives, following Esme.

When the next task is assigned, Reve is nodding his head and going toward the bottles. It's that amendment thoughtfully provided by his wife that has Reve send a positively grateful look toward her. It's as if Azova knows him or something. Not that he doesn't nod politely to the Marquessa, but the Lord Darkwater is quite content with hauling crates and bottles to and fro.

Esme comes sauntering in with a bright smile, but for the moment; she holds back to watch. Everything seems to be taken in with a bit of awe as her eyes dance from one thing to another and one person to the other.

Oswyn nods to Ezra. See? He isn't so horrible. His brow furrows, though. "What's all this about potatoes?" he asks, hesitantly. Schlorp. Soup goes into a cup for Bhandn's plate.

Mathis is offering to help with the cooking and Porter starts leaning over like he might PUT HIS HANDS ON HIS MOUTH but he doesn't quite follow through with the motion, probably because they're in public. But also because he's not a complete lunatic. Shaking his head quickly, "Shhh, Mathis. Don't say that outloud, the cooks from the Rectory are here. They'll /hear/. You'll get us both--" and he makes a sawing motion across his neck. Then he's distracted, "Excuse me, wait! Lord Macario!" But then he's gone, too quickly. "That Lord Malesepro is a slippery fish," he declares to the table. Just as he's turning to say something Cassiopeia, Bhandn 'accidentally' punches him in the arm. He blinks and winces, because he wasn't expecting it. He turns slowly and squints in Bhandn's direction. Did he do this to him? As the older knight moves around the table, he tracks him, still squinting. He takes up his spoon again and slowly puts food on his plate, staring him straight in the eyes this entire time. He sees you, Bhandn.

Sensing that despite his best efforts, Rook is somehow simply in the way, he steps out and away from the tables, passing along his duties to someone else that has come along. He steps back, smiling in satisfaction that there are plenty who actually know what they are doing serving the supplicants, and makes his way towards the side and an eventual departure. He does pause on the way out to offer a sheepish wave of apology to both Mathis and Azova.

Bhandn checks composure at normal. Bhandn fails.

Cassiopeia watches things move about and people talk and joke and share a moment of warmth and familiarity. Her eyes are ever expressive and seeming to pick up on the interactions with others. It brings a small smile to her face. The questions are met with answers, Porter asking about her position receives a nod. "Yes, Marquessa of Tremorus," she says to him, softly. Then to Ezra's question she lights up, seeming keen to explain her origins. "Tremorus, which is part of the Saffron Chain." Although Cassiopeia speaks with pride when she talks about home, there is a flicker of sadness in her eyes, all the same. At the mention of helping out with drinks, she turns her attention to Azova and Reve, stepping in their direction. "Of course, just tell me what you need me to do," she offers.

Yes, Porter, Bhandn did it. That smirking gives it away, and as the Archlector of Gild stares Bhandn straight in the eyes, the older knight's mouth can't stop twitching. His lips spread wider and wider, and then teeth start to be seen, and before long there's a great deal of snickering from the silver-haired man as he continues to hold his plate out towards Porter. "Thank you," Bhandn says, all but laughing at the man he punched in the arm, then turns to go take his food and escape with his hide while he can. Maybe. Porter might chase after him and tackle him here in the Cathedral, you never know.

"Because he looks like a potato!" This should be very obvious, at least according to Mathis's tone. "Or a loaf of bread, but more like a potato." Both of Mathis's brows go up , though, at Porter's warning, and it's entirely possible that he sees memories of a past life before his eyes - a past life full of cooking enormous meals for the entire clergy of Godsworn gathered in the region. So many onions chopped. So many potatoes peeled. So: change of subject. Sort of. "Marquessa - we should get some of your crops growing up here, if we can. I know it's a warmer climate down there, but hoop houses in the winter go a long way. And gods know we could use a little more variety of vegetables and fruits and such in the Compact."

Azova waves in return to Rook, a playful grin cast his way. "Thank you for being here and helping!" she calls after him, the warmth and bright of her gaze turned to Cassiopeia next. "I find, sometimes, that helping others is good for helping myself. So easy to get lost in the ebb and flow of simply serving drinks or food, and letting my worries go for a short while." she murmurs, when that passing moment of sadness is seen. "And then other times, I make terrible jokes that prompt a sigh from my spouse. And that sets me into peals of laughter and works as well." she adds, batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner towards said target of her humor.

Oswyn does at least manage to spy Rook moving away from the serving line and calls out, "Thank you!" with a wave of his free hand. Really, not many people want soup in the summer. It's more room-temperature soup by now but it's not popular.

Ezra perceives that Archscholar Oswyn rightly has some questions about what's all this about potatoes, and protests, "He bought a potato dog!" like not only is there another animal in the townhouse now, it also has the characteristics of a tuber. He doesn't seem to know where Tremorus might be exactly, but he "Ah!"s supportively for Cassiopeia anyway. And holds out a new plate for Mathis to address, because Ezra lost/surrendered the last one.

"I am many things, but not a fish," Macario announces with his index finger in the air. The lord gives Porter another quick wave, before side-stepping through and past and around a few people just in time to get himself a drink. A drink (whisky) finds its way to his grip, because of course it does, and he takes a satisfying sip once he finds a nice space with a wall to lean into.

Rook bows his head towards Azova and offers a smile in her direction. "It is always my pleasure to help," he says, and then he offers a wave back to Oswyn as well.

Porter would have to clear the table to tackle Bhandn, so for tonight, he's safe. The closer he gets to a laugh, the more (one of) the tall Archlector(s) squints at him. When it finally breaks into laughter, he loses all of his attempts at staying serious. Porter's laugh is loud, bold, and boisterous. He puts his spoon down briefly to clap his hands at Bhandn's antics and then waves on the next person to serve. He shakes his head and says to Cassiopeia, "Of course, yes. Tremorous! I wrote briefly with a now Lord Giorgio about the Faith working with your house on rebuilding as well as incorporating more Faith institutions in your home. Unfortunately we lost contact and then he stepped down, but if you'd ever like to meet sometime? I would be glad to arrange something. Perhaps Archlector Mathis could join us? Some of his knowledge might be invaluable to your march's situation."

Reve sends an absolutely pointed look toward Azova. "I rather like her terrible jokes," he points out to Cassiopeia. "The more terrible, the better. It is her good jokes that - ah, no, I rather like those as well." He lifts his brows with that comment and peers at Azova, as though finding her terribly suspicious in the moment. The play breaks with a grin though, a shake of his head, and he swings a crate away with a smooth remark of, "And well met," to Cassiopeia. "Lord Reve Darkwater." Because introductions of a sort evidently must be had.

Having found the edge of the crowd and escaped the masses, Camilla turns to slowly stride along the edge of the hubbub towards the exit. As her path takes her past Macario's leaning post, she inclines her head to him briefly, but without breaking stride. "Mlord."

Joy, the advisor of roses leaves, following Esme.

Aendal, a jumpy and introverted bookworm have been dismissed.

The young woman's expression lights up at the thought of crops from home being grown in the city. "I would love that--, there are so many things that I think people would quite enjoy. We try to bring things up when we can, but the amount of time it takes, one has to pick the fruit so green...it never tastes quite the same. We do have an indoor garden at the house and try to grow a few things, though limited," she chatters on in a friendly manner to Mathis before her attention shifts to Porter. The young woman nods her head slowly, offering a warm smile. "Lord Giorgio has been rather busy as of late, but I would be happy to have a conversation," she says easily. "Now that I've had some time to adjust the the life of leadership, I can put my mind to more things," she offers to them collectively.

"I rescued that potato dog from a life of squalor," Mathis says with immense seriousness. He heaps a plate full of potatoes and passes it to Ezra. His eyebrows go up again at the suggestion that his knowledge, whatever that might entail, could be of assistance to Tremorus. "Sure," he says. "Sure, sure, just write me. And then write me again if I don't answer."

"Pog. Potato Dog." Azova decides to simply interject that into the conversation, sorry.

The drink in Macario's hand doesn't last long. It's done in a few sips, and so he fancies himself a second. Camilla catches his attention on her way out, "Ah. Camilla. The dancer." He notes the legs, and lifts his glass. "Fancy finding you here. I hope you've got yourself a set of prayer beads." This, he says, as she's on her way out though Macario seems not far from going himself. He shoots Porter another quick look, and waves the (now half-empty) whisky glass in his direction as though saying a quick goodbye from a distance.

Oswyn is just about out of soup. He nods to Ezra, though he still seems puzzled until Mathis speaks up. "If the dog was potato shaped, wouldn't that sort of imply it had enough to eat?"

"Did you? Your house is going to become a life of squalor." Ezra is really just going to do this with Mathis right here and now, but he doesn't seem actually upset. He does take the place and retain it this time, pointing a fork toward first Azova, "Exactly. A POG," and then Oswyn. "EXACTLY." Regarding contacting Mathis, he does offer, "If you don't hear from him you can write me, but I'm only slightly better at mail. Lord Ezra Riven, by the way. Good to meet you, everyone I don't know."

"Not exactly my thing," says Camilla, not slowing her pace nor turning her gaze back towards him. Perhaps presuming that the words will float back to Macario over the other noises about. Her noted legs continue to carry her the rest of the way out of the Cathedral.

Nyx leaves, following Camilla.

"Only if your spiders keep squirting their butt-webs all over my house," Mathis counters like he had that one waiting just up his sleeve. He gestures at Ezra with his potato ladle. "And your sticks. Nobody needs that many walking sticks." A shrug, though. "I don't know, probably did. They looked pretty well-fed. It's just some unfortunate combination of a short dog and a round dog, led to potato dogs. The other ones didn't look quite so potato-y, but I liked the potato one, so I got him. The girls will teach him the ropes of how to dog. I'm sure of it."

"Great! I'll write to you sometime this week," Porter offers to Cassiopeia cheerfully, looking down at his tray and finding that's /empty/. "Oh, damnit. I'm out. Excuse me," he says to those around him and picks up the empty and begins wandering off to find one of the Rectory cooks, presenting said empty to them. Help! He spots Macario as the man begins to make his exit and lifts a hand, waving to his friend as he begins to slowly slip away.

Jeeves, a sophisticated valet , 7 Silvershields leave, following Rook.

"But why so many walking st..." Oswyn starts to ask, but seems to think better of it. There's an empty soup container to get cleaned, and so he hauls that back toward wherever they go. He is not nearly so good at lifting and toting as Reve but he manages.

"Butt-webs. Mathis. Where honestly do you think they're going to going to get webs from, the other end? That's redundant. AND that is big talk for someone who both takes my walking sticks and says they're too short." He grumbles into the potatoes, "I can't believe you went out and got a Pog, Mathis. The girls are going to trample it daily." He tilts his head back and forth assessing the potatoes he was served, but then perhaps with affection does repeat, "Not as good as yours." Oswyn has half a question, which is enough to perk Ezra up at the notion. "You never know when you need a good walking stick. Really depends on the walk too, what one you want."

4 Redoubt Buccaneers, Orion, a healer's surly Assistant, Fernando, the pygmy bear leave, following Azova.

Cassiopeia gets a delicate set of prayer beads cast in silver with charms of Lagoma and Gild from TAKE THIS STUFF SOME OF IT TAKE IT.

Reve gets a delicate set of prayer beads cast in silver with charms of Lagoma and Gild from TAKE THIS STUFF SOME OF IT TAKE IT.

Ilyse, a potentially reformed troublemaker leaves, following Reve.

Now that the line is dying down, Mathis takes the opportunity to serve himself and goes to find a place to sit down and continue his argument with Ezra about how many dogs is too many dogs and why a single potato dog somehow makes whatever number it is too many. These are important things for Archlectors to consider. It is known.

Oswyn squints at Ezra; he looks like he might say something, but he shakes his head instead and hauls the empty soup container off. And then he probably offers to help with dishes and quite possibly gets shooed away and given funny looks because Archscholar.

Whatever Ezra and Mathis are arguing about as Mathis shovels food into his mouth, it ends with the Archlector jumping up, taking Ezra by the arm, and dragging him out. Probably to meet this potato dog!

Mathis has left the Quiet Alcove.

Ezra has left the Quiet Alcove.

Nonsense, a hunting dog, Noise, a lively black hunting dog, a small lumpy dog which resembles a potato, Ezra leave, following Mathis.

After passing out drinks, Cassiopeia seems content to have made a contribution to the evening's proceedings. With a warm smile, she says, "I should make my way home, but it was a great pleasure to meet everyone. Thank you all for an uplifting experience," she murmurs with appreciation to those still gathered.